


Twinkie Boys

by eracitor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad childhoods, Bisexuality, Cool cool, F/M, Former abuse/trauma, Fucked up childhood, I love my slytherin boys, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Sexual Tension, Slytherin, Weed, and I will add tags as characters and relationships arise, there will be more development for them all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23122765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eracitor/pseuds/eracitor
Summary: Regulus has been betrothed. He's never really been interested in girls before. He just wants to hang out with his friends in Barty Crouch Jr.'s basement. But things can't stay the same forever, and a lot of changes are taking place, among them his developing feelings for one of his best friends. This is all about to get really complicated...(Because the Marauders are not the only ones with romance, drama, and boys being boys.)
Relationships: Regulus Black/Evan Rosier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44





	1. A Night of Muggle Beard

The basement of Barty Crouch Jr.’s house was a well-known hub to anyone who was worth talking about, according to Barty Crouch Jr. himself. The house was large and luxurious but not as off-putting as the Black residence, the heir of which was one of his best friends. In comparison, the Crouch house was more modern, clean, and perfectly-styled, as if straight out of a merfolk magazine. Marble countertops, wooden floors, and not a single thing out of place for any government official who came by to meet with Barty Crouch Sr. The junior didn’t mind the house--he was an only child and had never had to ask for anything twice. Still, the basement belonged to the boys.

Although plenty of people attended parties in this basement, the core group were the only ones in attendance today. Leaning against the door way was, of course, Barty Crouch Jr. himself. Wearing trousers and a loose button-down shirt, he sipped nonchalantly on a butterbeer. Playing alone at the pool table was Antonin Dolohov, of whom was deeply recognizable by the scars running from his fingertips all the way up to his forehead. He was large and wide, a fearsome giant of a wizard. He seemed to be trying his darnedest to hit the balls without shooting them into the wall on accident. Strewn across the ferociously ugly vomit-green couch was Evan Rosier, a pretty boy from the poorest household in the room. He had golden locks and a lazy kind of handsomeness, like it was accidental (which made it all the more annoying), and in his lap was lying a little baggy with herb inside of it, which he seemed to be patiently holding until the speaker shut the hell up.

The speaker was Regulus Black, who was pacing anxiously with long legs and furrowed brows. He was handsome in a careful way, much the opposite of Rosier. He had perfectly combed hair and a cautiously-prepared wardrobe. He was tall and lanky, but as a quidditch player, he’d acquired a bit of muscle, enough to be highly-praised by the even the coldest of Slytherin broads. Not that it mattered anymore because--

“I’ve been  _ betrothed _ ,” Regulus announced, saying the word as though it was a synonym to “tortured” or “mutilated.”

“And…?” Barty Crouch Jr. arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. His head nodded involuntarily, along with a click in his mouth and a quick grimace.

“Yeah, we all knew this would happen, right?” Rosier blew his hair out of his eyes. “Who is it?”

“Daisy Hookem,” Regulus sighed.

“She’s hot, mate, what’s the problem?” Rosier snorted, giving him a look.

“So was my betrothed, before she ran off with a mudblood,” Dolohov reminded him darkly, making the blond boy scratch the back of his neck apologetically.

“Touche.”

“I don’t have a problem with...her. I guess I just never saw myself getting married,” Regulus admitted, stopping long enough to steal a gulp of butterbeer from Barty Crouch Jr. “I haven’t even kissed a girl before. What qualifies me to  _ marry _ one?”

“Having the purest blood in London, nay, _ Europe _ ,” Rosier replied, snickering. Regulus couldn’t help but smile too, shaking his head. This only encouraged the blond boy, who shot up in his seat, waggling his tongue at Regulus. “ _ Genes so pure you can lick them _ .”

“I’ve got something you can lick,” Regulus joked, sending a wink his way.

Rosier darted up, juggling the bag of herb and his wand before storing them both away in his pockets, in only a matter of a few seconds. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I didn’t know I was in a fairy cove,” Dolohov tsked, making the other boys giggle. The Russian boy ran a hand over his shaven head, glancing pointedly at Rosier’s baggy. “Rosier, are you going to get this boy some beard or are we just gonna let him have a heart attack?”

Never reluctant to start dealing out the muggle beard, Rosier began rolling the joints with the herb from the baggy.

“Let’s just let him get it all out. We all know he’s going to explode if he doesn’t,” Barty Crouch Jr. suggested, earning a room full of head-nods, making a few clicking sounds and a grunt. It’s been said that whatever your parents don’t give you as a child is something that you crave as you get older. From the outside, Regulus may have been trained to be seen and not heard, but within the walls of the basement, Regulus felt comfortable enough around his friends to finally have a voice. It was almost damaging to his image because if he didn’t talk about it with his friends now, his perfect facade would begin to slip. Believe it or not, it actually made all his friends a little prideful. Seeing a side of him no one else could was amazing but having known him for years and having to struggle to get him to open up to them was why it felt so good when he relied on them and needed them.

“I don’t know what I imagined but...not a wife. To be honest, I assumed all purebloods not related to me were either too young or already with someone, you know? I figured the options were dry. Never mind that, I guess I always just pictured myself living alone, maybe having a roommate and a cat or something. Hanging out with friends,” Regulus signed, his pacing starting up again. “I know it sounds selfish but I don’t like how long it takes to get to know someone. You’re telling me someone I don’t know, someone I might not even like, will now have access to my time and my thoughts and my energy? Or I have to get to a point where they can because that’s what it means to be married, right? My parents hardly seem happy.”

“Mine too,” Barty Crouch Jr. nodded, eyebrows moving involuntarily.

“Mine didn’t stay together, and my mum was still unhappy,” Dolohov shrugged.

“Mine seem happy but they’re also blitzed out of their  _ minds _ most of the time,” Rosier laughed, lighting the first joint and taking in a deep breath.

“Didn’t your dad beat you as a kid?” Barty Crouch Jr. pointed out.

“Yeah, I said they’re happy. Not me,” Rosier gave him a dark look. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.”

“Pass it to Regulus,” Dolohov nodded at the younger boy. Rosier passed it to the other boy, watching him with careful eyes. Barty Crouch Jr. believed that Rosier and Regulus were two sides of the same coin. Regulus grew up in perfect wealth and Rosier grew up in poverty, with half-blooded, never-sober idiots for parents. They reacted in perfect harmony, both choosing to hide behind a smiling facade. Rosier was less keen to revealing his issues, especially about his home life, but similar to Regulus, if he was going to talk about it, it would be in this basement with his friends.

Regulus took it, taking in smoke like a pro. If his mother knew he was smoking something called “muggle beard,” he knew she might disown him right there. While he may have done everything in his power to be the best son, he quickly realized that he would never compare to Sirius. While his mother despised the life he’d chosen, there was something about Sirius that made her fight and argue and scream trying to keep him in her life the way she wanted to. She gave him chance after chance to serve her properly as her son. Regulus would not receive the same amount of chances. The beard felt good though, and he began to relax.

“Ultimately, they can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?” Rosier asked, relaxing into the couch as Regulus passed it to Dolohov.

Barty Crouch Jr. and Regulus both locked eyes, before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“His family is higher status than mine, and I  _ know _ that if my mother said today I was betrothed, the papers might as well be already signed,” Barty Crouch Jr. explained. Rosier seemed to be contemplating this carefully. 

“I’m hungry,” Rosier replied. Dolohov passed the joint to Barty Crouch Jr. 

“Me too. Let’s grab snacks. Any requests?” Dolohov asked.

“Dealer’s choice,” Barty Crouch Jr. replied, earning a nod from Regulus.

Dolohov grabbed Rosier by the arm, dragging him with him and earning an undignified yelp from the blond boy. He grabbed his arm back, glaring at him before racing up the stairs, ever a competition between the two of them. Typically, Rosier, Dolohov, and Barty Crouch Jr. had antics similar to a wizard comedy trio, getting on the nerves of each other and play-fighting to no ends, to which Regulus usually was the audience to, if he wasn't socializing with other people. Regulus got along well with everyone, and he’d never really experienced brotherly fighting. 

Regulus flopped onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling fan. Barty Crouch Jr. laid next to him, handing him the joint. Regulus glanced over at his best friend. “I know I’m being dramatic. I just...I love my friends. It doesn’t feel like I have room in my life for someone else. It felt like my life was going exactly how I wanted it to, and now this.”

“We don’t know her yet,” Barty Crouch Jr. said, barely loud enough to speak. “She could be the best thing that happened to you.”

“ _ My friends _ are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“If she’s not entirely awful, I think you should just be grateful,” Barty Crouch Jr. replied harshly, his shoulders shrugging a couple times, up and down. “Look, it’s going to happen. I know you didn’t want it to, but it’s happening. If she completely sucks, we’ll figure something out. We’ll drive her away or something. But if she’s cool and you run her off, your mom is just going to find someone else.”

“...you’re right,” Regulus conceded. He glanced at Barty Crouch Jr. “You seem very nonplussed by this. Usually, you can’t stop talking about girls.”

“I’m having trouble with my dad again,” Barty Crouch Jr. admitted, running his hand through his hair and taking the joint, inhaling deeply. “Always disappointed, always calling me retarded. It's not stress. He thinks I'm mentally challenged because of something I can't even control. The tics just happen, you know? I was upset when he would ignore me, and now I regret even complaining in the first place.”

“What about your mum?”

“She’s trying. She talks to him, but he doesn’t listen,” Barty Crouch Jr. shrugged. “I’m just done. I want to move far away from them. I want to take some money and just leave sometimes.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Regulus replied. “Geez, I’ve been complaining about girls, while you’ve been sitting on that.”

“I know your home life isn’t amazing either,” Barty Crouch Jr. shot him a look, before blinking very hard. “We’re Slytherins. We’ll do our time at Hogwarts and get the fuck out.”

“If you leave and go far away, I’m going with you,” Regulus replied firmly. “Together or nothing, okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oooooiiiiiiii!” Rosier cried, racing down the stairs with Dolohov just behind. They carry arms full of snacks, an entire feast. Most were muggle snacks, so Regulus wasn’t even sure how they got them. “Wotsits for our little Bartemius.” He threw a few straight at his face.

Barty Crouch Jr. let the bags hit his face, grinning from ear to ear, passing the joint to Dolohov. “Yum.”

“You are fucking blazed,” Rosier snickered, carefully handing Regulus his snacks. “Hobnobs, and you wouldn’t believe I had to search for those jammie dodgers. Curse your bloody sweet tooth.”

Dolohov kept his bag of Walkers crisps. Regulus eyed the bag in Rosier’s hands. “What do you have?”

“Somehow, this little shit retrieved Twinkies while I was smoking,” Dolohov pointed at Rosier incredulously.

“Aren’t Twinkies American?” Barty Crouch Jr. asked, crunching happily on his little orange puffs.

“Extremely!” Rosier grinned, joint now shoved between his lips by a spiteful Dolohov. “And I’m not sharing!”

“Not even one?” Regulus asked. Rosier turned to face him, only to be hit with the biggest, greyest puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen. 

“American food has about 900 kilograms of sugar in every fucking item,” Barty Crouch Jr. pointed out. “And Regulus is 60 kilograms of raw sugar addiction.”

“63 kilograms,” Regulus insisted, sending him a dark look. “At  _ least _ .”

“Not helping your case.”

“Alright, cripes, one twinkie for the addict,” Rosier rolled his eyes. He took off the packaging before his evil eyes locked with Regulus’s. “If you can take it with your mouth.” 

Without even questioning the absurd rules of the game, Regulus shot up and with him so did Rosier’s hand holding the twinkie. Regulus jumped at it like a baby bird, with an open mouth and hungry eyes. After a minute, he gave up, using his hands to try to wrestle it from the other boy. Instead, Rosier put the twinkie in his mouth. Now within reach, Regulus grabbed at it with his mouth…

Barty Crouch Jr. began laughing his entire body, laughing so hard that tears were streaking down his face and Dolohov snickered but looked on distastefully. Regulus had basically kissed Rosier full on the mouth. Immediately, Rosier had snapped his teeth down on half the twinkie, and Regulus took his half happily, not seeming to realize what had happened. Rosier smirked, chewing the rest of his twinkie. “If I’d known the things you would do for a Twinkie, I would have put it down my pants.”

With that, Regulus’s whole face turned aflame. “I--I, er, what?”

They all bust out laughing, even Regulus, despite his embarrassment.

“You all are a bunch of queers,” Dolohov shook his head. “Barty Crouch Jr. Play me at pool?”

“I’m so fucking high...but you know what, fuck it. Let’s go,” the boy shot up, bringing his bags of wotsits with him.

Regulus flopped back onto the ground, his snacks open next to him. He placed a cookie in his mouth. Rosier joined him, still smirking. “You want another Twinkie? I’m down to play that game again.”

“No, I’m alright!” Regulus huffed, making the blond boy giggle.

“You’re so defensive,” Rosier closed his eyes, humming something under his breath. Regulus didn’t know it then, even as he looked at his friend’s features. He didn’t know why he liked to look at Rosier, why his wavy blond hair and bright green eyes fascinated him so. His strong jaw and muscular build. The curve of his lips. He didn’t know...He didn’t know why he felt no qualms basically kissing Rosier when he’d never kissed anyone in his life. He didn’t really want to think about it, so he closed his eyes too, listening to the humming and the sounds of his friends playing pool. 

Things were amazing like this. Why did things ever have to change?


	2. the Cat and the Mouse

The party was in full-lull by the time Evan Rosier had arrived. It wasn’t completely unheard of; Rosier, much like a stray cat that’s been half-domesticated, came and went to parties like this, struggling between his social desire and his gut, which told him that he was not the same as the rest of the people at this party. His desire to fit in said that he was about as pure-blooded as most wizards and witches, but his gut told him that pure blood didn’t give him a pedigree pure enough to live up to the wizards and witches of aristocracy. While his desire to have fun with his friends told him that it didn’t matter, that pesky little voice in the back of his head reminded him that one day he would end up just like his parents. And who was he to hold his friends back.

God, he should’ve smoked a blunt earlier. He was seriously overthinking all of this. It was just a dumb party.

Although he was often late, playing off his insecurities as nonchalance and an apathy for promptness and/or self-awareness, he never missed a party this big because it was a good opportunity for him to make money. He didn’t do any crazy shit like his parents, sticking instead to muggle beard and occasionally a tab of something magical, upon request, but it was enough to get him enough spending money to keep up with his somewhat lavish friends (not Dolohov, who was just about as broke as he was). Depending on the person, he could sometimes scam an ignorant but wealthy kid into paying 10 galleons for a gram. It was utterly delightful.

He wasn’t particularly looking forward to this one. Regulus had planned to bring his  _ betrothed _ to this dumb party, supposedly with a few of her friends, as a way to get to know her a little better in a more casual environment than in front of the watchful eyes of his mother. They’d already met once or twice with his family present; afterwards, he immediately apparated to the basement, claiming that he was just stressed and needed to play a game of pool. He didn’t fool Rosier, who was the master of disguising feelings. Regulus was scared straight and craved the comfort of his best friends, the people who actually cared about him. He’d cut back on complaining though, which Rosier suspected had to do something with Barty Crouch Jr.

Gliding down the stairs with his patented feline-like confidence, Rosier surveyed the area. There were two different couples making out on the stairs that he had to step over on his way down. People were packed onto the couch like a sardine case, and people were playing a drinking game on the pool table, mostly girls with Barty Crouch Jr. and Dolohov supervising. Barty Crouch Jr. was clearly working every card in the deck to flirt with a redhead that Rosier recognized vaguely as a Ravenclaw in the grade below them. Dolohov, while he was very much interested in women, was a lot more dense and had not grasped this game as an opportunity to flirt with them. From a few minutes of eavesdropping, Rosier had to laugh as a girl with brown locks twirled her hair around her finger and asked Dolohov to explain the game to her again because she just didn’t get it. Dolohov, frustrated, instructed her to ask someone else because he couldn’t be bothered to explain it to someone who wouldn’t pay attention to his instructions.

Dolohov glanced up, after hearing Rosier burst into a fit of giggles, giving a questioning look.  _ Moron, she’s trying to flirt with you _ , Rosier tried to communicate with his eyes. Dolohov frowned, clearly not getting the message. 

There were a group of people playing karaoke on the other side of the basement, Christmas lights strewn across that part of the cieling and a small stage set up for the aspiring karaoke star of the moment. Some people were dancing or laughing, each person with a cup in their hand. That’s where Rosier spotted Regulus, who looked very uncomfortable. Next to him was his bottle-blond  _ betrothed  _ and Rabastan Lestrange, who was never particularly good company. He wasn’t a bad bloke; he just didn’t have any real interest in humans and would much rather be studying snallygasters or demiguises. His conversational attempts, while sweet, never really hit the target audience.

Ever the hero (as long as he had the energy or the desire), Rosier swooped in on the trio, a charming smile already on his face. “Well, good evening! Aren’t you a pair of darling newlyweds?”

Regulus’s face burnt red in embarrassment and annoyance, although the annoyance vanished almost as quickly as it appeared as he struggled to remain composed. “Rosier, don’t you think you would have been invited to the wedding?”

“You’re right. It’s not really a party unless I’ve brought my party presents, huh?” Rosier retorted playfully, feeling true happiness from giving his friend trouble. He knew Regulus would rather die than let someone who knew his mother know that he smoked wizard beard on the regular.

“Oh, come off it. You know we don’t keep you around for such petty reasons; we keep you around for the atmosphere, “ Regulus attempted to flash a fake smile, which looked more like baring his teeth, if you had a keen eye like Rosier. “Why, your charm is so thick, I’d say it’s suffocating!”

“Hardly sounds like a compliment,” Rosier complained.

“Certainly not. It’s just an expression.”

“Not one I’ve ever heard before.”

“Maybe if you spent more time listening,” Regulus smirked, and this time Rosier recognized it as real. As always, he knew exactly the right buttons to push when it comes to their little band of friends. 

“Well, if Regulus won’t introduce me, hello!” Rosier’s eyes turned to the small girl at Regulus’s side. Regulus was on the average side of height but thin and agile, a bit shorter than Rosier who was a good 185 cm. The girl was much smaller than Regulus, probably a head shorter, with obviously bleached hair in two braids and a mousy face. Rosier tried to be impartial in his judgment, but he had a hard time caring for others who seemed so temporary to him. Assuming that Regulus would marry her meant that he had to force himself to see her as permanent. He attempted to look a little closer.

She had a tiny circular nose that scrunched up when she smiled. Her eyes were squinty too, like she couldn’t see properly. The roots of her hair were a chestnut brown, as were her thin-looking eyebrows. She had maroon nails that were long like little mouse claws (probably indicating that she was a Gryffindor as well). She seemed shy as Rosier jutted his hand out to shake hers. She barely even clasped his hand, leaving her hand in his like a dead fish. He glanced at Regulus, who made a gesture with his hand that gave Rosier both understanding and irritation at the same time; she wanted him to kiss her hand, like a proper aristocrat. 

“Sorry, as a rule, I don’t kiss anything I wouldn’t like to do much worse to,” Rosier apologized, and her mouth opened wide open like an ‘O’ until Regulus shook his head at her, letting her know that Rosier was only joking.

Up until this point, Rabastan had been silently standing on the outer edge of the circle, not participating but also watching carefully as the interaction played out. He raised his eyebrows when Rosier noticed him, reminding the blond boy why he was here: business.

“Anyway, it was nice meeting you,” Rosier said, giving the couple a two-fingered salute as he sauntered off, Rabastan on his heels. He found his way to the basement toilet, jumping onto the counter next to the sink and kicking his legs childishly as he waited for Rabastan to follow him in. “What would ya like, Baz? The usual?”

Rabastan was large. Taller than Rosier by at least 14 cm, thicker and wider. He wasn’t fat, and he wasn’t some sort of bodybuilder, but his body was built like a wall, just solid muscle. His curls were thick and unruly, tangling down his back like gnarly, wild vines you find in the jungle. He certainly resembled a bigger, meaner version of Tarzan. Despite his terrifyingly huge appearance, he was a baby if you got him in the right mood. “Will you roll it for me again?”

“Fingers too big?”

“It’s a disadvantage my mother never anticipated.”

“Surely, she anticipated it after your brother,” Rosier laughed, jumping off the counter and getting out his materials, more than ready to do a favor like that to the biggest softie in the Slytherin house. 

“Big runs in the family,” Rabastan admitted. “She just didn’t know  _ how big _ .”

He didn’t seem to want to talk after that, not because he didn’t like Rosier. Rosier could tell that Rabastan tolerated his presence, and that was a deep compliment in terms of the younger Lestrange brother. Silence was something to be interpreted with Rabastan. When Rosier first met him, he remembered how uncomfortable that silence could be. This silence was pleasant, as they both watched Rosier roll the blunt for him.

Rosier wondered if Rodolphus was here tonight. Rosier used to really admire him, but the blond boy had intel from his many sources that the dude was a complete creep. He was far older than any of them, but still kept in contact and attended these parties quite frequently. Not to say older people weren’t allowed, but Rosier wondered what a grown adult would want to do with a bunch of teenagers. He wondered why Rodolphus even went through with his marriage to Bellatrix; the woman was a complete nightmare, and Rodolphus was not faithful in the slightest, from the stories that Rosier had found.

“Why do you reckon so many people are keen to get married, even for business arrangements or the sake of aristocracy, or whatever?” Rosier asked, handing his friend his goods.

Rosier didn’t really expect a response, but the big guy pondered it for a moment before saying decidedly, “People, I reckon, are very afraid to be alone. They’re so terrified that they think the reality of being unhappy with someone is better than a reality where they are alone.”

That’s what he thought about as he spent the rest of the night basically alone. He drifted around the basement until someone needed to do business with him, and then he retreated to the bathroom for subtle transactions. He overpriced it for anyone he didn’t know. Low-balled it for his friends. Was approached by a couple girls, was not interested in the slightest. Kept seeing Regulus and his mouse fiance over and over, jumping out at him every time he looked through the crowd. Annoying. Supplied Barty Crouch Jr. with condoms when the boy came to him with the most aggressive of his tics, as he was filled with excitement and anxiety.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy this. Sometimes he certainly did. How could having fun not be fun? It was just that the closer he got to the end of his time at Hogwarts, the more he realized exactly how bleak his future looked. As long as he could remember, his parents would tell him that he was nothing more than their bitch boy in the making. He used to tell them, specifically his deadbeat dad, that they were dead wrong. Then his dad would ask, “So what  _ are _ you gonna do?”

He could never provide an answer. It’s not like there was a wide range of wizarding jobs for whatever reason. He’d never been partial to any of his classes at Hogwarts. He’d done fine in them but nothing jumped out as  _ his _ thing. Dolohov has always been exceptional at transfiguration, and Rosier knows that he wants to travel to Russian-speaking countries so he can freshen up his Russian and study birds of prey. Barty Crouch Jr. was diverse enough in his interests--puzzles (like a nerd), quidditch (like an athlete), and his Gothic aesthetic obsession (like freak). He wasn’t certain of what he wanted to do exactly, but he’s always said that he wants to run away, maybe move to the United States or Canada or somewhere. 

And then there was Regulus. The Golden Boy. Regulus was good at  _ everything _ . He had impeccable grades, and interest enough in most of his studies to retain all of it. He grew up with classic aristocratic studies, with an emphasis on art. This meant that he was a talented painter, pianist, and poet. At Hogwarts, he was a prefect, a seeker on the Slytherin quidditch team, an active member of the duelling club, and one of the elite pupils invited to the Slug Club. And he could braid hair so beautifully that multiple people had mistaken Rabastan Lestrange as a woman from behind one day. The boy had nothing but opportunities, but even if he didn’t, he could pursue whatever interests he wanted for as long as he wanted without a job because he was born into  _ money _ .

The sad reality was that Rosier had to be practical when it came to living and surviving. He would leave his parents’ home as soon as he was eighteen. He would probably continue the lifestyle they’d bred him into. And he’d make enough money to be able to live by himself until he could think of something better. He’d probably end up like his parents, drug addicts who hate each other and hate their kids, along the way. That’s if he was being very blunt with himself. He hoped that wasn’t the truth, but it certainly wasn’t difficult to imagine.

He shook his head. Whatever. He didn’t need to think about it. He lit up his joint, taking in a deep breath of the substance, and no sooner than he did, a girl burst past the bathroom door, sliding towards the toilet like she was a baseball player sliding into a homerun and let her head fall forward, retching immediately. Much more casually, another girl entered, eying Rosier and waving at the smoke a little.

“Do you mind?”

“No, it‘s alright.”

“Not what I meant,” the prim (definitely not drunk) girl pressed her lips together. She had a short brown bob and oval glasses. Her skirt was perfectly in place and her top was obviously ironed. Her shoes were even polished. This was a party, not a job interview, right? She looked like the female version of Regulus Black, which was bloody hilarious in Rosier’s eyes.

“Don’t I know it. This is kind of my post though,” he shrugged. “Plus, now I’m invested. You alright, love?”

The drunk girl gave a thumbs up before throwing up again. The prim girl began tying back the puking girl’s auburn curls, making sure her hair was out of her face, but not without first giving Rosier a searing glare. 

“If you’re so invested, mind doing me a favor?” the prim girl asked.

“Anything, love.”

“One, enough of that love nonsense,” she harrumphed, causing Rosier to chuckle. “And two, will you go get my friend? I need to take them both home.”

“Who’re you looking for?”

“Daisy. She’s together with Regulus Black.”

  
  
  


Regulus must have picked a perfect night to bring his fiance, to let her see exactly who he and his friends were. Typical to the parties thrown here, he spent the night kind of wandering between people, although this night he was letting Daisy tag along. It was a little relieving to find that she wasn’t dazzled by the idea of marriage either, but she was trying to see the bright side, it seemed. She was a very positive girl, probably too positive for the people Regulus knew.

Together, they’d spent quite a while playing party games with Dolohov and Barty Crouch Jr. Both had a girl that was clearly interested in them, but it was only Barty Crouch Jr. who was picking up on it. Barty Crouch Jr. disappeared with the redhead about half-way through the night, and while it was not normal for him to have a girl interested, it was not unheard of. Regulus gave a thumbs up when he saw them flirting. Dolohov was not doing as well. He’d caught the interest of two girls who were clearly flirting, but he was easily annoyed and not very trusting of others so he kept trying to brush them off, to Regulus’s amused disappointment.

Daisy had brought her two best friends, Amelia and Greta. Greta’s auburn curls and bubbly personality were catching the eye of every guy at the party, which according to Daisy was a shame because she’s “as gay as they come.” Amelia, with her short brown hair and oval glasses, was keeping an eye over them like a mother hen, and she didn’t seem to trust Regulus. Which he figured was respectable and didn’t take much offense to it. It really didn’t matter to him at this point. Still, she had won points with Dolohov because she paid attention when he taught her game rules and she was very blunt when she talked. Regulus didn’t want to say “match made in heaven” although if they weren’t, he didn’t know who was. But they were so clearly uninterested in things like romance that neither of them really seemed to consider the option. They got along quite nicely to say the least.

Regulus supposed it wasn’t the worst version of a date he’d ever heard of. He sang some karaoke songs with Daisy and her friends, and he’d introduced her to all of his friends. She’d been off-put by Rosier (unsurprising) but then again, it wouldn’t be Rosier if he made a perfect impression. That was the odd thing about him. Despite how obvious it was to Regulus that Rosier was being a dick, everyone missed the sarcasm and the irony and chose to interpret his...way of talking….as  _ charm _ . 

“I’ve heard a lot of ladies talk about Evan Rosier,” Daisy admitted, as Regulus’s friend had walked away. “I didn’t know he was so talkative and funny. He’s so eccentric but...charismatic!”

It was unclear if she was lying for the sake of politeness or if she genuinely was so confused by his existence and overwhelmed by his energy that she thought he was charismatic of all things, but either way, it didn’t really matter that much. If he was honest, he couldn’t help but feel so apathetic about the whole thing. He didn’t much care for Daisy, no matter how nice she was, and it felt so exhausting, keeping up a mask this entire night for the sake of a fiance. He imagined doing this for years and years and years, keeping up a mask at all hours with her because he couldn’t jeopardize their marriage.  _ If we get married, I’m taking up a job with long hours _ , Regulus vowed to himself. Or he might just lie about it so he can spend more time hanging out with his friends….

He immediately felt guilty. It’s not like he wanted to be rude to her. She  _ was _ nice. He shook his head. Instead, he would sit her down and let her know his feelings on the marriage. Not tonight. Good god, what a bad time to say something like that. But he would be honest with her because it was the right thing to do. And if she still wanted to marry him, he supposed that honesty could go a long way to make both of them happy, maybe not together but still happy. Feeling a little bit of relief, he turned to Daisy, but she was nowhere to be seen.

He searched the entire floor, before finding her uncomfortably pinned to the wall by some random bloke Regulus had never seen before at these parties. He sighed. While he wasn’t angry, he knew the only thing a man was supposed to do when another man made a woman uncomfortable like that.

He tapped on the guy’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy?”

The bloke turned around, right as Regulus’s fist smashed into his face. With that one movement, he collapsed to the ground, people scattering but keeping their eyes glued to the situation.

“You alright, Daisy?”

Daisy looked from the guy to Regulus, back and forth, before finally nodding her head. “I’m okay. Are you okay? I--”

“Merlin’s pants, Black, what’d you knock someone out for?” Dolohov shook his head. Amelia, who had been walking beside him, stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened to saucers, as she turned to Greta. 

“Greta, don’t loo--”

It was too late. Greta took one look at the blood on the guy’s face and began sprinting towards the bathroom. Amelia gave the biggest sigh in the universe, pressing a hand to her face. “Why can’t I have an easy night out with you two?”

With that, she followed after Greta without increasing her pace.

“Nice hook,” Dolohov complimented Regulus. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“You taught me well,” Regulus grinned proudly. He’d taken self-defense tips from Dolohov a couple years back, when he was still a small thing and Sirius and his friends were still terrorizing the halls of Hogwarts. They high-fived, but Daisy still looked a little uncomfortable at the guy splayed out on the ground. “Did you know that guy, Daisy?”

She squirmed a little before sighing. “That was my boyfriend before my parents arranged this whole marriage thing.”


	3. Most Beautiful Thing

Rosier seemed to find Regulus and Daisy at the most inopportune moment possible. They both looked incredibly awkward when he approached to tell them about the drunk girl throwing up in the bathroom.

“Your party gal pals are looking for you,” Rosier announced, after clearing his voice. Their eyes both shot to him. Daisy looked completely heart-broken, but Regulus just looked really confused. Either way, something had clearly happened, and Rosier was very interested to know what it was.

Regulus nearly jumped out of his skin, before realizing it was Rosier. He wondered how long the blond boy had been standing there, but it didn’t really matter. He’d be telling his friends about this conversation later. Not today, but later.

“I better go,” Daisy said, getting up and dusting off her dress.

Regulus stood up too. “I hope you had an alright time.”

“Certainly interesting,” she laughed uncomfortably. She wiggled her fingers, and then ran off to meet up with her friends. Rosier glanced pointedly at the unconscious guy, still laying in the middle of the room. If ever there was a good time for him to decide to be subtle, it would have been now, but then, Regulus was never that lucky.

“Should we do something about that?” Rosier asked, the tremble in his lip making it obvious that he was about to burst out laughing. “Slay the dragon, rescue the princess, eh?”

“I got it,” Dolohov replied, practically arriving out of thin air. “I told everyone to go home, and that this guy got too drunk and was getting rowdy. You’re good now.” He threw the guy over his shoulder and gave Regulus a thumbs up. People were leaving anyway, so it seemed like a relatively normal thing, like Dolohov was carrying a drunk friend instead of the guy his friend knocked out.

Rosier, apparently uninterested in the details, started walking back towards the bathroom, where the girls were now gone. Regulus followed after. Without speaking or discussing what they would do, they both jumped onto the counter, the sink between them. Regulus pushed the hand soap into the sink so he wouldn’t have to rest his back on it. Rosier lit the joint, passing it to Regulus who took it without even looking at the other boy.

“Stressed?”

“Why would you say that?”

“That’s not usually what you look like when you’re having a fun, good time,” Rosier pointed out. Regulus glanced at the pretty boy, who plucked the joint from Regulus’s lips to put against his own.

“I think it’ll all work out eventually. I’ll fall in love with her and she’ll fall in love with me and...” Regulus shrugged. “And then it will be fine.”

“I don’t think that’s how falling in love works.”

“Ah, but you don’t know.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re telling me you’ve been in love?” Regulus scoffed. 

“In love with you,” Rosier teased, winking at him pointedly. Regulus brushed a hand through his normally perfect hair, trying to calm the ruffle after a night of socializing and partying.

“You should’ve said something sooner. I’m a taken man,” Regulus pretended to look wounded and pressed a hang dramatically to his heart.

“True love’s kiss will make your bride turn back into a mouse and your witch mother melt like an ice cube,” Rosier said with the most sincere face he could gather, passing the beard back to him. “Hold on, let me get a Twinkie.”

“Yeah, yeah, hilarious,” Regulus’s face burned in embarrassment.

“Funny time to become shy,” Rosier laughed, but he was studying the boy. Regulus was beautiful in a princely way. He was put together, with a perfectly tailored outfit and perfectly clear skin. His knuckles were raw. He’d defended that girl, not because he felt he loved her but because that was his princely duty. Rosier was enthralled by him.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had a thought like that, like he could easily become obsessed with the idea of what Regulus was except that he was already addicted to the person Regulus really was. Playful, intelligent, kind-hearted with a conscience even when he’d been conditioned not to listen to it. He was so fun to be around and just a completely absurd person. He was so predictable in his daily life but in the basement, when it’s just the four of them, Regulus would do the most peculiar things, and Rosier was always so eager to find out what he’d do next.

“Do you remember playing in the sink as a baby?” Rosier asked.

“I can’t recall ever doing something like that,” the other boy admitted.

“No? A shame. If this sink was big enough, I’d dunk you in right now.”

“Isn’t that what a bath is for? Or even a pool?”

Rosier scoffed. “Not the same. You don’t know anything until you’re playing in the sink and just causing absolute chaos.”

“You’re insane.”

Insane maybe he was. Rosier turned on the faucet of the sink and began filling it with warm water. The hand soap was already in, and Rosier waved it around, attempting to make the water bubblier. 

“In.”

“It’s barely big enough for our feet.”

“So our feet shall go in. I don’t give a fuck. We’re playing in the sink.”

They turned so they were facing each other, and Regulus carefully placed his shoes on the ground, peeling off his socks with the same level of rigid attention. Finally he dipped a toe in.

“That shit’s bloody boiling, you arse,” Regulus hissed, like a cat with his fur up. “Are you trying to cook my toes?”

“You caught me. They looked so good I wanted a bite. Feed me something else then. Feed me the joint,” Rosier insisted, playing with the faucet again, trying to mix cold water with the hot water to fix the problem. He leaned forward, opening his lips to accept the joint, but when glanced up there was something different in Regulus’s eyes. Regulus placed the joint in the blond boy’s mouth gently, his eyes steadily watching his lips wrap around the joint and suck, the joint still between Regulus’s fingers. Regulus’s fingers brushed against the other boy’s lips. Rosier could practically feel the sexual tension crackle and as their eyes met, they both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

And then the moment was over.

“Used to be more bubbles in this sort of thing,” Rosier announced, a little too loud.

“My mum used to summon bath mermaids,” Regulus piped up, his eyes looking anywhere except at Rosier.

“Ah, that’s because you were a rich, lucky bastard,” Rosier laughed, easing back into the casual friend energy that both of them had. 

“Lucky isn’t how I would describe it when the mermaids would try to take off with my toenails,” Regulus scoffed, trying to press down the ruffled hair with his hands. It was a nervous gesture. Rosier felt guilty, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. It was nothing new that Rosie swung both ways; he’d come out to his best friends back in Year 2.

“Don’t you think that Emmaline Vance is rather...foxy?”

“Good god, Barty Crouch Jr.,” Regulus waved him off, wrinkling his nose. At the time he was the same perfect socialite, barely coming out of his shell. He was like a hermit crab, testing the waters, peeking out of his shell every now and then to see if it was alright to venture on. “When was the last time someone used the word ‘foxy.’”

“Me. Right now. To describe Emmaline,” the other boy retorted. He repeated foxy twice, blinked hard before continuing his fight for Emmaline Vance. “She’s got to be the most beautiful thing at Hogwarts.”

“She’s two years up. She’s hardly into a small fry like yourself,” Dolohov teased, who was already fairly big and tall for a 12-year-old. While the others were waiting for their eventual growth spurt, Dolohov was already plenty of cm ahead of the whole group. It helped for when Gryffindors in older grades tried to pick fights with them. 

“Well, you haven’t got very good taste anyway,” Barty Crouch replied nastily, eyebrows moving sporadically. “Still mooning over Andromeda Black, like she isn’t a blood traitor in the making.”

“That’s my cousin,” Regulus glared.

“And my future wife,” Dolohov scowled.

Regulus looked at him, trying to see where the practical side of him began and where the delusion ended. What a confusing fellow. They had only known each other a year at this point and while their bond was apparent, they were not yet used to each other’s behavior, especially when they all had their own way of hiding what hurt them the most.

“Rosier, don’t you like Emmaline? You have good taste. C’mon, back me up,” Barty Crouch Jr. elbowed the other boy. Rosier was lounging casually next to Barty, and Dolohov was sitting in the chair across from him. Regulus was lying on the floor, a textbook in front of him.

“She’s gorgeous, obviously,” Rosier agreed, scratching his chin dramatically. “The most beautiful thing, though? I’m not a mad man. I’d clearly give that award to Lorcan D’Eath. It’s kind of hard to beat out a half-vampire.”

“Well I was only talking about people we’re attracted to,” Barty Crouch Jr. waved him off.

“I know,” Rosier cleared his voice. Everyone was silent for a moment. Rosier could feel his own heartbeat in his throat. He glanced around nervously, waiting and silently pleading for anyone to respond. Every fear he’d had about this moment came back to haunt him. He hadn’t even considered coming out to his parents, although the interest in guys had only really picked up the summer before Year 2 and he was still very new to what he was feeling. Still, he knew that these boys were his true family and he wanted them to know.

“Can hardly blame you. Lorcan looks like a Greek sculpture,” Regulus said, before grinning directly at Rosier. Rosier tried not to look startled but the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, barely out of his hermit shell, hardly seemed like the first person to support him. Then again, he would never complain. “I’m surprised you wouldn’t nominate yourself for the title, though.”

“Evan Rosier, most beautiful thing,” Rosier tried out the words tentatively, glancing at his other friends. He was confused as to what was happening. He’d been so certain they’d reject him that he hadn’t considered what to do if their reaction was...like this.

“Just don’t make a move on me,” Dolohov growled.

“Oh, you’re really crushing his dreams, Scarface,” Regulus snickered, causing Dolohov to slug him on the shoulder. “Oi!”

“I may be bisexual but I don’t get off on my own face, however beautiful it may be,” Rosier said with faux-arrogance. “And I’m certainly not goblin-sexual, Dolohov, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Watch it or I’ll punch your lights out,” Dolohov threatened, making Regulus giggle.

“To think that you could be attracted to women, the most beautiful sex, and somehow still want to snog a boy, the most disgusting sex,” Barty Crouch Jr. shook his head, apparently still hung up on it before he flashed a smirk. “You’ve got to be utterly demented.”

“Being attracted to men is not a disorder, but it’s certainly close, isn’t it?”

“I heard it’s a disorder that spreads when someone punches someone else for no good reason,” Regulus wiggled his fingers at Dolohov. “Now you regret, don’t you, oaf?”

“That’s a chance I’ll have to take,” Dolohov scowled, before slugging him again. “Anyway, I’m obviously Hogwart’s Most Beautiful Thing.”

They all burst out laughing, which made Dolohov’s scowl deepen but in a way that made them know that he was joking. That’s how it was with the four of them, from day one. Rosier had been rightfully terrified to reveal himself to them; they all came from relatively conservative backgrounds. But he should have given his friends a little bit more trust. There wasn’t anything that could break them apart. Fights and disagreements, rumors, bad grades, bad parents, a group of terrorists called the Marauders, bullies and the mysteries that rocked the world of every Hogwarts student. Anything thrown at the four, they could handle. Nothing could break them. Nothing.

The sexual attraction flowing between Rosier and Regulus just might.

  
  
  


Evan Rosier didn’t invite people over to his house very often, and there was a reason for that. While his house was probably about as shabby as Dolohov’s, his parents were never sober and almost always embarrassing and/or belligerent. Plus, Evan had seven siblings, five of which were still not at Hogwarts yet, and they drove him absolutely bonkers. They always wanted stories of his adventures at Hogwarts, and while he did oblige them from time to time, their need for attention was constant. He felt bad because he knew that they lacked affection and love from their fucked up parents, but it was hard to be empathetic when Evan had spent most of his life carrying the knife blade directly in his hands, bleeding so that his parents wouldn’t throw the knife at one of the others. 

Dolohov’s place was a small little flat. Ms. Dolohov was nice enough, if not timid and tired-looking. She had a few scars through her face, but the lack of scar said more about her than anything, especially with the countless scars etched on Antonin Dolohov’s face. Rosier didn’t like to judge, per say, but he certainly took note when people’s actions didn’t match their personality. 

“What’d you think of Daisy?” Rosier asked, tipping a picture frame on the wall so it’s slightly crooked. Unsurprisingly, Dolohov’s bedroom hadn’t changed at all. It was minimalist and perfectly clean, with everything in order and everything in its perfect spot. Dolohov was weird about living spaces; Rosier had shared a bed with at least two other people (let alone a room) for as long as he can remember. His space didn’t really feel like his, so sharing a room at Hogwarts felt like nothing, but it was obvious that Dolohov did not feel the same.

“Her friends are very nice,” Dolohov seemed to be thinking carefully, eying where Rosier had tipped the picture frame. “Greta’s kind of messy and troublesome but she’s nice. Amelia was a delight to be around.”

“I’m sure she was,” Rosier snickered, giving him a little wink.

“No...no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it wasn’t…” Another wink.

A scowl from Dolohov as a warning.

“Never mind that she is so your type, and she’s the only girl on this earth that has a personality suited to yours, you had fun with her, right?” Rosier asked, clicking on his lamp, on and off, on and off before flopping onto his bed.

“She was pretty cool….as a potential friend though,” Dolohov explained. This wasn’t surprising. Despite his dark and fierce appearance, the guy was very happily in the friend zone of every girl in Slytherin, plus some from the other houses. He enjoyed being friends with girls and talking to them and normally found little to no interest in any male friends. Barty Crouch Jr., Regulus, and Rosier had been an exception, a fluke that had accidentally grown into something more meaningful than any of them could have imagined. 

“Alright, big guy,” Rosier conceded, before thinking for a moment. “Soo...say you’re friends with her but there’s some sexual tension. What do you do? Do you pursue it, see if it’s really there, or leave it alone, remain friends?”

“Remain friends,” Dolohov said without hesitation.

“Well but...ugh…” Rosier groaned, trying to think of a better way to phrase it. “What about You-Remember-Which-Girl-I’m-Speaking-Of. You felt very romantically towards her?”

“She is precisely why I would much rather remain friends. I know we were only engaged due to an arranged marriage because our parents were born in 5 billion BC or something but I had real feelings for her, and those aren’t feelings I want to have again unless I know it’s permanent.”

“How will you know it’s permanent if you don’t try?”

“We’re only seventeen,” Dolohov scoffed at the blond boy. “You know I don’t have to fall in love today. I probably shouldn’t. It actually sounds pretty stupid to me to pursue love at the youngest age ever to pursue love.”

“Touche.”

“Antonin! Are you wanting a snack?” Ms. Dolohov called from another room.

“Just a minute,” Dolohov called back. He rolled his eyes. “If I don’t stop her, she will come back up with sardine-cracker sandwiches. Give me just a moment.”

He left the room.

Maybe he was right. Maybe it was stupid for Rosier to still be thinking about Regulus. But it had been a week since that party, and Evan Rosier had been thinking of it ever since. When they smoked in the basement, Rosier had to stop himself from watching the other boy, and he tried hard to force himself to talk to the others so it didn’t seem like he was favoring Regulus, but it was weirding Barty Crouch Jr. out.

“Why do you want to know so much about my one night stand?” Barty Crouch Jr. had asked, after Rosier had grilled him for fifteen minutes straight over the dumbest details, like the length of her eyelashes (“Enough?”) and if she thought his sheets were too scratchy (“Impossible, because my sheets are soft as fuck.”)

When he went to the library to find a book to clear his head, he kept seeing books that Regulus had recommended or books he’d seen the boy reading. When he’d wandered down some streets, just trying to clear his head, he kept seeing people that looked like Regulus, and he felt disappointed every time he was wrong. It was so odd. Before the party, he hadn’t thought this much about Regulus. He thought about Regulus four or five or ten times a day, tops. Or maybe more. Merlin’s Pants, had he always been thinking about Regulus this whole time?

Shaking his head, he tried to focus. Dolohov had given him some good advice. It wasn’t like he was going to find the love of his life at seventeen. And it wasn’t like he was even sure Regulus was the love of his life anyway. Sure, he was attracted to him but Rosier was attracted to a lot of people. And he would never ruin a friendship so important. Rosier wanted him to be in his life for a really long time; he couldn’t do that if he endangered their friendship. So he would be practical and squash down these feelings the best that he could.

Yeah, that’ll work, Rosier thought to himself but there was a lingering voice in the back of his head that said that he was in for it.


	4. A Patronus Revealed

The most frustrating part about being as intelligent as Regulus was is that his intelligence didn’t make it any easier to understand certain human interactions. It had been very clear from a young age that humans didn’t seem to make any sense at all. The only person who has ever made sense to Regulus was his father. While the man had let his wife abuse her children emotionally (and from time to time, physically), his actions made sense to Regulus. Keep your head down. You can’t control the will of others so you might as well go along with it. Even at times when the Black brothers drove their father insane, he would take deep breaths in and out. His anger in those times was often more frightening than even their mother’s because it didn’t happen enough for them to know what might happen when it finally exploded. He never yelled. He only waited, and the boys would very quickly step in line (or at least Regulus would). 

That night in the bathroom when Regulus and Rosier were joking around, there was something that happened. It didn’t really make sense. On the one hand, Regulus knew that some sort of understanding had passed between them. He would bet on his own grave that it was some sort of tension--sexual and/or romantic, he couldn’t tell. But on the other hand, that’s not even the gayest thing that has happened between Regulus and Rosier.

When Rosier came out in Year 2, the other boys had reacted very differently. For a while Barty Crouch Jr. became somewhat indifferent, barely acknowledging Rosier’s sexuality unless he had to. This pissed Rosier off to know ends and would cause him to mention it more frequently and act more faux-flirtatiously towards the other boy, trying to get a rise out of him. Dolohov was raised in a very conservative, not well-educated household, which meant that he found it difficult to accept Rosier like this, but while he asked a lot of stupid, borderline-offensive questions, he genuinely seemed to want to understand and have Rosier as a friend regardless. For this reason, Rosier seemed to be closer with Dolohov than any of them, taking the most time and patience to explain things to him and talking to him about issues in relation to his sexuality. And how did Regulus respond?

Regulus had never been too interested in romance with anyone, even from a young age. Sexuality and gender identity seemed to be a complicated subject, one that would never go over well if he spoke about it with his family. Because he relied on his family for his future, he just never felt the need to delve into the subject. He wasn’t sure if it was same-sex attraction to think James Potter was the biggest hunk or if all you needed was eyes to come to this conclusion. Regardless, he kept the thoughts he had to himself. He’d eavesdropped enough on Sirius and Remus discussing their forbidden romance in Sirius’s room over the summers to get a basic understanding, and he did enough research on his own to know that some of the terms certainly could be applied to himself, if he were born in another family in another life. For that reason, he had a lot of respect for the bravery it took for Rosier to come out to his friends that year.

Regulus did what he did best: he tried to please others without properly revealing anything about himself. He was certain what accepting Rosier was absolutely the right thing to do; he wasn’t sure that all of Hogwarts would have done the same. Hogwarts, despite being a school for wizards, hardly catered to people who were different. Still, Regulus would be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge that he was selfish and a coward. Regulus would never feel comfortable enough with anyone to reveal something that could ruin his reputation, his inheritance, his social value, his future. 

For Merlin’s sake, he’d marry Daisy Hookem, who he isn’t sexually attracted to in the slightest, before he would admit that he wanted something to happen between Rosier and him that night. 

Sitting on the couch in Barty Crouch Jr.’s basement with Rabastan Lestrange sitting in between his legs, Regulus began carefully combing the large boy’s hair into sections for braiding. Dolohov and Barty Crouch Jr. were playing pool, and Rosier was nowhere to be found. Since the bathroom incident, Rosier had kept a fair distance, which was odd because Dolohov was always complaining about how gay the atmosphere was whenever Regulus and Rosier got rowdy. Not that Regulus was upset that his sexuality, whatever it was, was still in-hiding. It’s just that he missed his friend acting like he always did. He missed his friend in general, before everything got awkward.

“I like it better when you do it,” Rabastan Lestrange practically whispered, as if raising his voice would disrupt Regulus’s braiding process. He closed his eyes, seeming very at ease, which was surprising for Rabastan without a creature in his presence. “Rod was always so rough when he braided.”

“That’s because Rodolphus is a beast of a human,” Regulus laughed, carefully but tightly intertwining the hair. “And also he has absolutely no patience. I seriously wonder how he and Bellatrix haven’t killed each other already.”

“She’s not the worst of your cousins,” Dolohov grumbled under his breath.

Regulus shot the other boy a look. “I understand your comment, but you should know that the Black Sisters are all equally horrendous and amazing. It comes with being a part of the family.”

Dolohov refused to acknowledge him, continuing the game. Barty Crouch Jr. shared a look with Regulus. “That reminds me, have you heard anything about your brother lately?”

Regulus bristled at this. The question was unexpected. It wasn’t often any of them discussed Regulus’s estranged brother. “No. Having foursomes with the Marauder Monsters I can only assume. Speaking of foursomes, Dolohov I need you to go on a double-date with Daisy and me.”

“I’m not interested in Greta,” Dolohov protested immediately. “Besides, isn’t she a homosexual?”

“She is a lesbian, yes,” Regulus sighed. “But she’s not the one who needs a date. How is that your first assumption, that I would have you double with a woman who can’t be romantically attracted to you.”

“No woman could be romantically attracted to him,” Barty Crouch Jr. quipped, before whistling and clicking a few times. “Just look at that mug.”

Dolohov prepped to slug him in the arm, but Barty Crouch Jr. dove out of arm’s reach and into a safer part of the basement, a smug look still on his face. Dolohov turned back to Regulus, “Who then?”

“Are you dense?” Regulus asked. “No, seriously, do you have a concussion? Which of Daisy’s friends do you think would be interesting in doubling with you?”

“I guess, maybe, Amelia?”

“Yes, Amelia. She was very clearly interested in you.”

“As a friend. And I don’t want there to be any confusion about my stance on a relationship with her,” Dolohov said, looking very serious.

“So tell her yourself. Daisy wanted to double-date and Amelia volunteered herself, as long as she was on the date with you,” Regulus rolled his eyes. Dolohov seemed to ponder this. He looked very pensive, as Barty Crouch Jr. came back, now feeling it was safe enough to take his shot in pool. “What’s the point of getting romantically involved with someone at the age we’re at when statistically there’s no way it’s going to last? Like what are the pros of doing it?”

“There are none,” Barty Crouch Jr. snorted, but Dolohov waited for Regulus’s answer.

“I mean sure, statistically speaking it’s unlikely you’ll find your soulmate at such a young age,” Regulus agreed, being very careful with how he phrased his ideas and taking time to properly mull over the question.. “But I think with those sort of things it’s not up for you to decide. I feel like you should wait and let the circumstances happen. To a certain point you’re in charge of your own destiny, but if you met someone who you think is really cool and could help you grow as a person, why wouldn’t you invite them in your life? It doesn’t have to be forever; you can even make it clear to her that it’s not forever. The point is that you don’t stop someone good from impacting your life just because you’re not sure how it’s going to end.”

“That’s...surprisingly wise,” Barty Crouch Jr. raised his eyebrows.

“Not surprising,” Rabastan piped up. “Regulus is a very intelligent individual.”

“You talk me up too much,” Regulus said, feeling very embarrassed now that he said something so deep and vulnerable. He finished off Rabastan’s braid, tying it with a hair tie. “What do I know? I’m only seventeen.”

“I don’t know…” Dolohov said, seeming to drift off. Before anyone else could say anything, Rosier burst down the stairs, glancing around at everyone.

“Why’s it so tense in here?” he asked, before shaking his head. “Well, never mind. I don’t need to know. I need you guys to come with me to the park. I domesticated baby foxes, nearly!”

Without hesitation, Rabastan shot up, eyes practically glimmering in excitement. It was clear that the large boy could be 20 feet tall, and he would still find nothing but delight when it came to every critter on the earth (with humans as the exception, of course).

“Alright, everyone get up. We’re going to see baby foxes,” Regulus looked at his friends, giving Rabastan an encouraging smile before giving a grim look to the others. He stood straight as a plank, barking out orders like he was in charge of an army. “If you bastards don’t get ready in two minutes, I swear to god I will shove the 8-ball in a hole it wasn’t meant for.”

“Never threaten us with a good time,” Rosier said, a twinkle in his eye.

They hurriedly put on shoes and grabbed their wands, not without muttering sarcastic comments under their breath in Regulus’s direction. Rosier seemed joyous as well, clearly excited to show his friends the miracle that is foxes. Regulus hadn’t seen him this amped in a couple weeks. It was a sight for sore eyes.

“That’s what kept you this whole time?” Regulus snorted, sending the blond boy a look. “And here I thought you were just too busy romancing every man and woman within a 2 kilometer radius.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Rosier winked, before stomping in place and taking on Regulus’s military-like persona. “C’mon, boys, LET’S GO. I’ve seen handicapped sloths move faster than you.”

They followed him down the street to a park. Rosier was leading the way, but Rabastan was close on his heels. Dolohov and Barty Crouch Jr. were play-fighting in the back and arguing very loudly, calling attention to the group. Like a bunch of children, they were, but it meant that the group was relatively back to normal. When at least two people were duking it out, that’s how you knew their little friendship eco-system was functioning well.

“They don’t know how to shut up,” Rosier huffed, before leading them up to a hole in the ground surrounded by tall grass. It was ironic that Rosier would say that, as he was just as frequently partaking in the dumb-assery, but it was clear he had a mission in mind. What they presumed to be the fox den was barely noticeable unless you were paying attention. They all stared, waiting for something to happen. 

“Oh, fuck, hold on,” Rosier said, laughing to himself and taking out his wand. “Merlin’s Pants, I’m high as fuck. They won’t come out unless I summon a friend...expecto patronum.”

Out of the tip of his wand, a glowy ghost-looking fox appeared. It looked very seriously in Rosier’s eyes before cautiously trotting close to the den. Before long, two baby foxes sprang out of the den, play-fighting and yipping at each other. Despite the ghost-like appearance of the fox Rosier produced, the bright red foxes were incredibly excited to greet it, regarding him as a friend. It was completely adorable.

“Would make good meat and fur,” Dolohov joked.

“Over my dead body,” Rabastan said, fierce eyes turning on the scarred boy. Dolohov was big himself and certainly very intimidating but it was clear that a fight over living beings would end in a loss on his end if it was against Rabastan Lestrange.

“I’m bored,” Barty Crouch Jr. complained a few minutes in. A few minutes later, he and Dolohov began heading back to the basement, already arguing about something else. Regulus, though, was utterly fascinated with the magic going on. He’d never seen little ghost-like animals like that before, although he’d certainly heard of the charm. He just figured they’d get to that charm eventually in Charms class and had forgotten about it since his discovery of it. Now, he regretted the lack of research he’d done.

“You can produce a patronus. I didn’t know that, Rosier,” he said, completely fixated on the faux-fox. It still played and jumped around with the other foxes, but the baby foxes couldn’t bite it, which seemed to confuse them and enthrall them. They continued to try it anyway, pouncing and playing and yipping at each other.

“My dad was in Azkaban for a while when I was a kid,” Rosier explained. “I know what the presence of a dementor feels like, and I never want to feel it again. I made a vow to myself at a young age that I would learn that damn spell.”

“Well it looks amazing. You certainly did it,” Regulus complimented him.

“What memory do you use?” Rabastan asked.

“What?”

“He’s asking about the happy memory used for the spell,” Rosier explained, his eyes finally fully reaching Regulus’s. Green. With flecks of gold. “It has to be powerful and good and happy and strong enough to protect you even in the darkest, coldest times.”

“So what is it?”

“It’s a secret,” Rosier furrowed his eyebrows at Rabastan, who was being uncharacteristically nosy.

“I haven’t produced one. I know Rodolphus can’t.”

“Why can’t he?” Regulus inquired.

“It’s not exactly an easy spell. You could go through hundreds of memories, too, and they could all be very weak. Not every wizard or witch can do it,” Rabastan continued. “I think I would be nervous to meet my Patronus. How could I pick only one creature as my guardian?”

“You don’t pick it,” Rosier shook his head. “Like everything else in this world, it just picks you.”

“Can you teach me?” Regulus asked, his eyes alight. Magic was sometimes overlooked by wizards and witches born into a pureblood line, but not to Regulus. Magic was always surprising and enchanting him, and he was eager to learn something, especially if no one else had learned it. For a second, he was completely blinded by his love of magic, not even remembering that there was some tension between the two that might increase exponentially if they were alone together, practicing spells.

But Rosier didn’t seem to remember either. He was looking directly at Regulus with this odd smile on his face, one that Regulus had never seen before and couldn’t recognize. “I sure can try, at least.” 

They were looking at each other, and suddenly that feeling was there again, like there was something going on between them. Regulus couldn’t stop looking at his eyes, and in return, Rosier stared right into his. Regulus hated how cliche it was to say but he felt his breath catch. He was such a beautiful human being, a thought that Regulus didn’t take lightly. Rosier was confident, quick-witted, and very often playful, much like the animal that linked itself to him through the Patronus charm. He tried to face his problems alone, but was deeply loyal to his friends and would stop everything he was doing to help them. He seemed a little lost, and he certainly hadn’t been raised in the best environment, but that was part of his beauty too. He was strong but he was soft too, cunning but deeply kind to everyone around him. 

The feelings that Regulus were feeling now were beautiful too. He couldn’t help it, and he couldn’t deny it either, as much as he wanted to. These were feelings made him so excited and thrilled that he felt physical pain as he tried to shove them down. But he still did. Because even if it was clear that he liked Evan Rosier, that didn’t mean it was something he could act on. For a sliver of a second, though, he’d almost been almost too tempted. For just a moment, he would have traded everything in his life to bask in the feelings he was having right now.

Rosier must have seen that. He must have noticed too because he looked back at the foxes, frolicking just close enough to make Rabastan all flustered with joy. There wasn’t a critter that Rabastan didn’t want to be around (besides people). Evan Rosier and Regulus Black were two sides of the same coin. While they both pretended they liked most people, they were very particular too. Not just any old person created the relief and comfort that their friends gave them. That they gave each other. Despite the racing of their hearts, they were calm between the two of them. Silence didn’t feel heavy as they sat and watched the foxes play. 

“We better head back,” Rosier said, after a while. He didn’t seem as playful as usual now. While he seemed calm, he was also uncharacteristically serious. Regulus wondered if it was due to the feelings that had passed between them just a moment ago or if it was for other reasons. It was impossible to think about much else when the feelings were present, and while Regulus could not read the other boy’s mind, he knew it didn’t flow only one way.

“I’m gonna stay a little longer,” Rabastan waved them off. The baby foxes were getting closer to him now, and it seemed like he was determined to properly meet them. He didn’t seem as wild with Regulus’s braiding done on his hair, but he was ten times as passionate as usual, which was a nice sight to see. Rabastan was a good bloke.

Regulus and Rosier’s eyes caught each other, and they both shrugged, amused by Rabastan’s determination. They began walking back together, side by side, admiring the view of the park and the forest just along the horizon. They passed by houses and buildings on their way back, a breeze seeming to stalk them as they went. But it was delightful; a breath of warm air mixed with a cool breeze is what made the summer wonderful, along with all the time they had to mess around and hang out with each other without the looming gloom of general studies.

“Makes sense that your Patronus is a fox,” Regulus piped up, attempting to bring back some of their banter so it would feel less like his feelings tainted their relationship. “What with how foxy you are.”

“And here I thought it was my wits,” Rosier frowned, pretending to look put off.

“And not the charm?”

“Foxes are certainly charming, but I could never have enough charm to nab Rabastan’s attention like that,” Rosier admitted, elbowing him playfully before running a hand through his golden locks. “But enough charm to nab yours, huh?”

“You know it,” Regulus smirked. “I was so charmed that all it took was a Twinkie in your mouth, and I was sold. Now I’ll follow you to the end of...this street to see some foxes.”

“I’m sure I could convince you to follow me to other places,” Rosier grinned.

“Like where?” Regulus asked, playing along. Apparently those were the words that Rosier was waiting for because his grin widened. He grabbed Regulus’s arm and apparated them into what looked like a dark bedroom. Regulus peered around, taking in the surroundings. There was a large bed, and generic striped wallpaper. There was a full-sized mirror and a door that he knew to lead to a closet. There was a small dresser with a vase of flowers in the center. Rosier himself was clouded by the darkness, making it hard to pick out any specific features, but Regulus had him memorized and could see him in his mind when his eyes failed him. It wasn’t hard to understand what that meant. He glanced around the room again. It did look familiar though...

“Barty Crouch Jr.’s guest room,” Rosier replied sheepishly, as he noticed Regulus’s evaluation of the room. “I don’t have anywhere at my house to get some privacy. And we’re going to need privacy for what comes next.”


	5. A Game of Honesty

He woke up screaming, like he often did. His nightmares were haunted with the image of a pale, serious-looking boy. Their eyes were the same, a flat grey color passed down for generations. He’d spoken to James on more than one occasion about these dreams, but they agreed that it was nothing more than his guilty conscience. Remus’s dreams were another story. His wolfhood was the only thing that beat his prophetic dreams in terms of level of shame, and while the grey-eyed man often pestered the scarred man about his dreams, he was reluctant to share. Still, the nightmares came to him every night, Regulus reminding him of things he’d long tried to erase entirely from his memory.

Sitting up, he wrinkled his nose. He was soaked in sweat, and his sheets were crumbled in his fists. He relaxed his grip, his chest still rising up and down. For a second, he looked around, like he expected Remus to be there. He knew why he wasn’t though.

Two weeks ago, he’d woken up to Remus next to him. It wasn’t the first time (and he hadn’t expected it to be the last either), and he’d revelled in the other man’s beauty. Remus wasn’t beautiful in the standard ways that Sirius was used to; he was skittish but also a daunting thing, with scars etched across his face and a constant weariness of someone who had given up on expecting things to go his way. He was complicated, sure, but Sirius had never minded complicated. His chalky brown hair covered his eyes, as his chin rested on his forearms. He was naked, the sheet barely covering his too thin body and narrow hips. Sirius would make breakfast in a few moments. He was going to enjoy his time with Remus for now.

Sirius didn’t like art. It always seemed so forced and unrelated to what life looked like. Life was ugly and harsh and never looked the same way that paintings did, with the flaws and the letdowns and the cancer of pain that rotted the good parts of life. While it felt like a depressing way to look at things, it felt more real to Sirius. It’s why he enjoyed the flawed man laying next to him. It’s why, he thinks, that Remus enjoyed him too. He couldn’t pretend Sirius was extremely sweet and kind or even mentally stable. But neither was Remus. And that was what made them good for each other.

“I can feel your eyes,” Remus mumbled into his arm, stirring slightly as he blinked sleepily up at Sirius. His eyes were hazel, and Sirius knew that the other man delighted in anything that would make him feel normal and not so out-of-the-ordinary. But his eyes reminded him of a peaceful but active swamp, and Sirius was absolutely fascinated.

“Would you like to feel something else?”

At that flirtatious comment, Remus’s eyes opened wide, glancing at his lap to see if he was serious. There was a slight disappointment mixed with his amusement when he realized the canine-like man was kidding. Sirius barked out a laugh, happy to have tricked Remus into a joke.

“What? You know my friend here goes full werewolf whenever it sees your moon,” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows, smirking like a sleazeball. Remus’s mouth twisted, like he was trying to convince himself he didn’t find it funny, but instead he burst out laughing, shaking his head. Another favorite point of Sirius’s: Remus always believed he was above the sexual innuendos and raunchy jokes, but he absolutely wasn’t. He was just as much a man as the rest of them.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m Sirius,” he grinned, feeling bubbles of joy rising up to his chest. He’d never felt this happy with anyone else in his life. It was like all the pain and trauma disappeared when he was looking at this man, holding and touching him. Loving him. He glanced at Remus, before locking eyes pointedly. “I was thinking...We’re basically partners already. And we have been a couple years now. Maybe we should just make it official.”

Remus stilled, his smile fading from his face. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, Remus, you know. We fuck but we care about each other, genuinely. And we connect really well. Don’t you think we could do this seriously?” Sirius shrugged, feeling less confident than he had a moment ago. They’d had this discussion many times, but he always believed that one day Remus was going to change his mind. “I mean, we basically are partners already. I just want to stop keeping it a secret from James and Peter. They probably guessed already anyway. Merlin knows we spend a lot of time alone together…”

“You think they know?” Remus frowned, looking away. The worry lines appeared, which is what always seemed to turn this from a discussion to an argument.

“Why does it matter if they do?” Sirius asked, an edge to his voice now.

“It’s not like I want to keep it a secret either,” Remus bit his lip with uncertainty. He wasn’t looking Sirius in the eye. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw was clenched. Sirius didn’t believe that sentence for a minute, but it was difficult to argue with someone in complete denial. “But I just don’t think it’s a good idea. What will they think?”

“Who gives a fuck what they think? They’ll be fine, and if they aren’t, they’ll get over it. And if they don’t get over it, they were cunts to begin with,” Sirius huffed.They were saying the same arguments they always did. It was rooted in fear for Remus. No matter how logically Sirius debated him (and Sirius was seldom this logical about anything) Remus was determined to entertain his worst nightmares.

“It’s not that simple,” Remus shook his head. “You don’t know how quickly one part of you can ruin a relationship.”

“Oh, shove it up your arsehole, Remus,” Sirius snapped, venom in his voice. He was more than irritated now. Remus looked at him, surprised, but his words sunk into Sirius’s chest like a knife. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who’s gone through that sort of thing. You don’t remember me being kicked out, my mother blowing me off the damn family tree? You don’t have real estate on being abandoned.”

“You’re right, Sirius. But with that in mind, you should understand why I don’t want to lose James and Peter and Lily,” Remus’s eyebrows knit together, looking pained. “You’ve felt that kind of loss with arseholes who wanted to hurt you; have you felt that kind of loss with someone who gives a fuck about you? Wouldn’t that be worse?”

Regulus flashed in Sirius’s mind but he quickly shoved it down. If Remus could forget the brother he’d lost, so could he. “It’s all the same. Do you really not trust our friends to properly accept you? After everything we’ve done before, you still build this wall between you and them. Do you really believe that we wouldn’t be with you, through thick and thin? Through everything?”

“If I’m building a wall, I’m doing it to protect them, to protect you.” Remus’s eyes seemed to be pleading with Sirius. “I’m doing what I have to preserve a relationship with them that I might not have otherwise. And there’s nothing wrong with us waiting until the time is right.”

“When will the time be right, Remus?!” Sirius’s voice boomed in the room, as he stood up abruptly. His eyes were filled with anger, in disbelief that his best friend and lover was being so dense. He’d been waiting so long, and now it felt like Remus would never be unafraid. Remus would never take a shot on something real between them, and it made Sirius so fucking upset. “A year? Five years?! How long do you want me to repress who I am so you don’t have to grow the balls to confront who you really are?! As long as you lie to your friends, the love between each other is fake! I will not help you cheapen your relationship by telling lies. You can have fun doing that on your own.”

After that, Sirius had stormed out, slamming the door behind him. They hadn’t spoken since, despite sharing an apartment together. Peter, the third roommate to the apartment, was constantly looking between the two of them, confused why they were no longer speaking to each other, but both men refused to explain or attempt to bridge the gap. Just thinking about their argument made Sirius’s blood boil. He couldn’t understand why Remus would ask him of all people to fake; it just wasn’t something he was capable of now that he was free of the chains of his family. He’d had similar, much smaller scale arguments with Remus before but he’d always thought Remus just needed a little time. Sirius and Remus had been hooking up for years now, and Sirius refused to waste any more time pretending to be something he wasn’t.

He did admit that he missed him though. He missed waking up next to him. He missed burrowing his face into the side of his neck. He missed going on walks together in the forest, talking about nothing and everything. He missed reading side by side and making up spells together. He missed Remus inside of him, and he missed the connection they had when they were alone. It was almost enough to go to him and apologize, to admit that perhaps he’d been wrong. To suffer a little longer in hopes he could convince him that they could be together.

Instead, he stubbornly continued his cold-shoulder attitude. Selfishly, he wished he could ask Remus about his dreams, though. Whenever he saw Regulus in his dreams, he tended to worry. Even though he was still holding deep grudges against his younger brother, the thought of him withering away under his mother’s glare made him feel anxious...and guilty. He should have taken Regulus with him. When he left, he should have dragged Regulus by his hair if he had to. But he didn’t.

Thankfully, long ago they’d put spells on Sirius’s room so his screaming would remain within his walls when the nightmares became too much. It was deeply evident that Remus hadn’t been in his room in awhile; it was a wreck of clothes and unfinished projects. A puzzle with only the outer pieces connected, a half-played game of wizard chess, a couple books opened in the middle and dog-eared where Sirius had stopped reading out of boredom. When Remus was visiting, clothes were hung up, projects were put away or organized, and books were properly put away, with careful attention and care for the book itself. It was properly pathetic that Sirius needed help with room organization at his age, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care, especially without Remus there with him.

Getting up, he began to stretch, feeling weariness in his bones. Perhaps it was impulse, but after a night of terror and immediately waking up to thought of his now-dead romance with Remus, he suddenly felt like he should add another tattoo to his collection running down his chest, arms, and legs. Maybe something saucy on his arse would be satisfactory. Instead, he shoved down the impulse and pulled on some shorts. He walked past Peter drawing in the living room and Remus eating oatmeal in the kitchen. He exited the kitchen, slipping on sandals and standing on the porch of their apartment. It was so hard to keep his eyes from wandering to Remus’s face, but he’d successfully done it. He should feel more proud of himself, but instead he just felt pitiful.

Reaching underneath an old pot, he found his cigarettes and his lighter. He placed one between his lips and lit it, staring out at the horizon. The sun was already up, such was the case most days when he woke up. He was never really an early riser. There was an eerie feeling in the air though that Sirius couldn’t place. It was probably his dog instincts, trying to tell him something was off, but he wasn’t sure what. Instinctively he turned around, surprised but in a way not surprised at all to find Remus standing behind him, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the smoke but holding out his hand, waiting for Sirius to share. He handed Remus a cigarette, lighting it when it touches his lips.

“I had a dream last night,” Remus said between puffs, his eyes not quite reaching Sirius’s. He was avoiding looking at him, and his voice was low, like he was reluctant to say it out loud. Sirius would have rolled his eyes if he didn’t absolutely bask in all theatrical performances of anyone in his life ever. He lived for the drama of it all. “It was...it was cryptic. It wasn’t clear, but it’s important you know.”

Sirius’s eyes snapped to Remus, who was quite a few centimeters shorter than him. He stared intensely, his mind already running with the idea that Remus somehow saw their future together, that he saw something that may have convinced him that they were meant to be together, and maybe they weren’t meant to hide it. An entire scenario, where the two of them got married and had a kid only to be killed by an evil genocidal wizard went through his mind, but he shook his head, trying to erase it from his mind. He ought to hear Remus out first. “Well spit it out, yeah?”

Remus gave him a look, sighing deeply. “I saw your brother. And I’m not sure what all of it meant, but...I think the dream was showing me two paths. I think that Regulus is about to be confronted with two roads, and depending on which road he takes...well, it’s the difference between life and death.”

Sirius’s voice is caught in his throat. He can feel his pulse increasing. He’s struck between impulsively jumping into action and the cold part of him that still holds a grudge against his reputation-obsessed Slytherin-loving brother. He gulps, putting out his cigarette and trying to look cool, calm, and collected. “And?”

“That’s the thing. It’s hard to interpret the dreams, but from what I’ve been able to put together when it shows the path that leads to his death, you are never there. He’s accompanied by no one. He is being seduced by a shadow, and then a group of shadows drag him under to his death. When he walks on the other path, he is accompanied by a fox and a hound, and he is closing his eyes. He cannot see, but he is speaking to them. They are guiding him down the path. And at the end, there is light, and all three merge into one as they enter the light. For weeks, I’ve been seeing the fox and the hound in my dreams, and I didn’t know why, until I saw them tonight with Regulus...Sirius, is it presumptuous to believe that...perhaps, the hound is you?”

Sirius doesn’t respond, completely lost in thought. He’d suddenly remembered something from his childhood, a story he’d created for Regulus when he was little and having nightmares, like he often did. As soon as Remus had said “the fox and the hound,” the memory washed over him like a tidal wave.

That night, Regulus had been smacked across the face by their mother. Sirius couldn’t remember why, except that their mother seemed to hate her children in general, and Regulus never fought back, which seemed to irk her for reasons no one could understand. It left a red mark on Regulus’s tiny face, and Sirius had guiltily wished he’d been there to intervene. He’d been writing letters to his friends, trying to plan a night for all four of them to sneak out and find trouble. Regulus had stopped asking him to play, had stopped asking for them to cuddle or chat about quidditch teams. He’d become very quiet that summer, even when they were in the same room together. Sirius had been so busy corresponding and thinking about his friends from Gryffindor, he’d barely even noticed the change between them. But it was very clear now that things had changed, when Regulus had woken up in a panic and not even asked Sirius for a story to help him get back to sleep.

When he saw Regulus’s face, so blank of emotion with a dark red splotch on his cheek, he’d been filled with rage. Regulus rubbed his face sleepily but Sirius seethed. “She can’t do that to you.”

“Yes she can,” Regulus disagreed, and originally Sirius had assumed Regulus was taking her side, but after a few minutes, he realized Regulus was just being blunt. She can; Regulus knew this because she probably did so regularly. While this wasn’t exactly absurd (Sirius had had his fair share of beatings as well), it made him wonder how much Regulus had actually endured.

“She can’t when you’re finally at Hogwarts this year,” Sirius told him, but Regulus hardly seemed moved. Clearly, Sirius had been neglecting his duties as an older brother. It was eerie though, looking at his blank little face, void of all things. It felt like his soul had left his body. “Wanna hear a story?”

There was a flicker of childish excitement in his eyes that relieved Sirius, and he blinked, nodding eagerly. “Yes, please.”

“Alright,” Sirius rubbed his hands together. He’d told Regulus so many stories as a kid, always using the same characters, inspired by family members and disguised in a very obvious way. “There was once a banshee. She ruled the land by making people afraid, by screaming so loud that it made the people’s ears bleed. She had married the king and turned him to stone with her icy glare, and it seemed no one could stop her.

“The people she hated the most were the heroes of the land: a dog named Sirius and a lion--”

“Not a lion,” Regulus shook his head. Sirius was confused for a second; Sirius had always made them characters like the constellations that they were named after. Regulus was a star in the Leo constellation. He looked deeply into Regulus’s eyes, but the younger boy seemed very adamant. He searched them, before realizing how to edit the story perfectly.

“You’re right,” he grinned at the younger brother. “The heroes of the land were a dog named Sirius and a fox named Regulus.”

This seemed to satisfy the younger boy, who did not interrupt this time, although his eyelids did seem to be drooping ever so slightly. 

“They were determined to save the people of the land. First they went to Narcissa, who sat all day looking at herself in the lake. When they begged her for help, she refused, too in love with her own reflection. Next they went to Bellatrix, who’s deep loyalty to the evil banshee queen had turned her into a vampire who tried to kill them with her fangs. She was unable to catch them because she was batshit crazy, and they ran far away. Last, they asked for help from Andromeda, who was kind and good. But she was too busy healing the ears of people who heard the banshee queen’s evil screams. She could not help them.

“The fox and the dog were stumped. How could they defeat the Queen without help from someone else? It was then that they realized that as long as they were together, side by side, they had a bond strong enough to defeat the Queen together. So they stuffed their ears with cotton, and they went to the Queen with sharp claws and pointy teeth. She tried to ruin their ears with her scream, but they had out-witted her and they began to bite her until she was finally defeated. And from that point on, they protected the lands. Just the two of them. The end.”

Regulus had fallen asleep by that point, looking much more child-like than when he was awake. His face was not somber and worried. It was peaceful. Sirius tried to ignore it as he returned to his letter. It made him uncomfortable to think that while he’d been having fun and making friends at Hogwarts, complaining about his mother to everyone who could hear, Regulus had been dealing with them (or more accurately her) by himself. And if he didn’t think about it, maybe he wouldn’t feel guilty.

He spent the rest of that summer as far from the house as he could be, avoiding Regulus when he could and trying to keep Regulus from his mother when he couldn’t avoid the younger boy. When they both went to Hogwarts that year, Regulus had not been sorted into Gryffindor. Sirius made a loud, contemptuous show of saying he knew Regulus would betray him for Slytherin; afterall, he’d chosen a fox over a lion in the story. But really, he felt deep down that because he’d been so obsessed with the new family he’d found in the Marauders and in Gryffindor, he’d neglected Regulus, who reminded him of the rest of the family he hated. It was due to that neglect, he knew, that Regulus had felt no strong urge towards Gryffindor or any other houses. It was because of his absence that Regulus had succumbed to his parents’ wishes and found a home in Slytherin, of all houses.

There was nothing in this world that filled him with more regret than the thought of his brother. It was no coincidence that Remus had seen a fox and a hound in his dream. Sirius couldn’t decipher what it meant, but he knew that Remus was right to confide about this dream to him. That dream meant something. It meant, at the very least, that Sirius would have to put aside his grudge against his brother if he wanted to save him. That he could possibly be the only one to save him. He felt it in his chest. He felt it in his gut. His instincts told him that Remus’s dream was showing them something they needed to see.

“I don’t know how to save him or if I even can. But I’m willing to try. Call a Marauders Meeting.”

  
  
  


“So, um...what comes next, Rosier?”

The tension in the room could be compared to a gunfight between cowboys. If a tumbleweed suddenly passed between the two of them, neither of them would have been surprised. They may not have seen it, eyes locked on each other with uncertainty. Their masks were both still in place, and they were each waiting for the other to reveal something first. Neither was willing to be the first to tear down the wall and admit that something was going on between them.

“Call me Evan,” the blond boy replied very somberly, something Regulus wasn’t used to. There wasn’t a smirk or a shit-eating grin on his face, like there usually was. This made Regulus even more uneasy. What did that mean? Regulus was observing every tiny movement in his face but coming up with nothing. He was unreadable. Not even a micro-expression as they stared at each other.

“Okay, that’s enough of this,” Regulus scoffed. “We can’t just look at each other forever. What did you bring me here for?”

“You don’t know, or you don’t want to say?” Evan asked, and Regulus felt fear flicker into his heart. Not that he thought Evan would hurt him physically. But with that one question, phrased so seriously, Regulus could feel where this conversation was headed, and he couldn’t help but admit to himself that the feelings he had for Evan Rosier were the most terrifying thing that he’d ever experienced.

He didn’t reveal his card though. “I’d rather not play games, Evan. I feel like I might not win them.”

Evan considered this. He knew he was playing with fire; he’d been filled with a passion he’d never experienced in his life, just because Regulus had been so delighted by his Patronus. One look at Regulus’s face, looking at the magic in wonder, and Evan realized that these feelings weren’t going to go away, as stupid as he thought they were. He needed to face them head-on, like a man (despite being only seventeen). Still, he knew that Regulus shared these feelings with him. He knew he needed to do something about it.

“I know a game we either both win or we both lose,” he told him, crossing his arms over his chest. “A game of complete honesty. The first to lie loses. And when I say honesty, I mean real, actual honesty. No lying by omission. No leaving your walls up.”

“How will we know the other isn’t lying?” Regulus looked at him skeptically.

“Honor system.”

Regulus just snorted.

Evan rolled his eyes. “Let’s just do it.”

“There is a bed for that,” Regulus quipped, before he could stop himself. Everything seemed to stop, as Evan’s gaze burned into his.

“There is a bed for that,” Evan repeated, before clearing his voice. “SO. Respond only with your gut instinct, your most honest answer. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Are you attracted to Daisy?”

“Not in the slightest,” Regulus answered immediately. He was surprised by his own answer. He’d been trying not to think too hard about how he felt about Daisy, but he was taking this game very seriously. He knew Evan, and he trusted him, and while it felt like this Evan was one he’d never met, he felt comfortable around him enough to open up. “She’s pretty and nice and a really good girl. She’s just...not for me.”

Evan was silent, and it took a moment for Regulus to realize that he was waiting for him to ask a question. “How did you know that you were...well, that you were bisexual?”

“I’m not going to say that you just know because I feel like that’s unhelpful,” the edges of Evan’s mouth tipped upwards. “There’s certainly confusion. Knowing I should like girls, but having that same kind of like for boys too. I was lucky. I just went with my gut, and my gut told me that I liked everyone, even people who don’t really fall into male or female. In the end, it really is as simple as that.”

“I don’t know what my guts telling me,” Regulus admitted. Evan looked at him. It felt odd, having this conversation in the complete dark, standing at least three meters away from each other. Regulus’s eyes were too dark to really see the color of, but Evan’s eyes flashed in the light from the moon and the streetlamps. 

“Your gut is saying something though?” It was phrased like a question, and Regulus answered like it was his next question in the game of honesty.

“My gut has been telling me something at least since the party, if not before then,” Regulus told him, scratching his neck in a small form of shame. He’d never felt so vulnerable in his life, but he figured if he was probably never going to have this opportunity again, to be so open about it. “I’ve read...some things. I know my brother’s at least a little gay, that much is obvious. And sometimes I feel like there are parts of me that aren’t one thing, like I’m not just a straight man, I’m...something else. I don’t know what. But I just never thought there was any point to entertaining my curiosity. Regardless of what I think of myself, people will always decide what I am for themselves.”

Evan grimaced. “Unfortunately, I can’t exactly argue with that. A lot of times people decide what you are to them before you even open your mouth. Dolohov, I think, is proof that that’s not always the case, though.”

“I’m not worried about our friends,” Regulus shook his head, thinking very fondly of Dolohov and Barty Crouch Jr. Even Rabastan, too. “I think there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them, knowing that they feel similarly in their sentiment towards me.”

Another silence. They were looking at each other. It was so odd, being this raw in front of each other. Especially after taking off the masks they wore so often for so long. It was a game with fear and relief in the same breath. With that in mind, Regulus ventured on.

“I know, for the future I want, I shouldn’t think about the parts of me that think I might be...the parts of me that are similar to you,” Regulus gulped, and Rosier smiled a little at that too, something soft and gentle but a little amused. “So I pose this question. You have already found that part of yourself and shown it to the world. How does that work for the future you want? Has it affected your goals?”

“Why does this sound like a job interview?” Rosier joked, but his smile became a little more tense. He wasn’t looking at Regulus now. “Look, I just can’t think that far ahead. I haven’t for a long time.”

“You just don’t think about the future?”

“I really don’t,” he let out a sigh. Regulus caught his eye, letting him know with a look that that answer wouldn’t cut it. “Look, when I was fourteen, my parents asked me to carry out a deal for the first time. That’s the last time I thought about my future. I saw myself getting arrested. I saw myself becoming like my parents, possibly going to Azkaban like my father. I could even die in the drug business, who knows! I saw myself having kids by accident and being in a loveless marriage. Or I saw myself running away so I didn’t have to deal and then becoming homeless, starving on the street. When I saw what my future held for me, I felt...trapped.”

“Nowhere to go,” Regulus said softly. He’d felt the same before, especially lately.

“Right. When I felt like that, it felt like it wasn’t worth it to try. I could hardly imagine myself living past twenty. It felt like if my future was that hopeless, why even keep living? I didn’t like that my thoughts kept circling back to that, so I stopped thinking years ahead. And then I stopped thinking months ahead. And now I just live by the day. I haven’t been planning this talk we’re having. In fact, I’ve been avoiding it. But today….it felt like it needed to happen.”

“So there’s nothing you want to happen? There’s nothing that you’re striving for?” Regulus asked, his eyebrows knit together in concern. “Merlin’s pants, are you even a Slytherin?”

“My goal is to survive, and I do it well,” Evan said, looking very tired. “My goal is to do what I like, and if I have to do things I don’t like to get me there, then I will deal with the day of. I supposed I’d like to have a place without my parents. And I’d like to offer that home to my siblings, once they’re old enough.”

“I didn’t even know you had siblings,” Regulus’s eyebrows shot up.

“I have seven siblings,” Rosier grinned bitterly. “Seven siblings I plan on leaving behind. I can’t say it feels good knowing that I can’t take them with me. But I can’t really help them if I’m still rotting in my parents’ dump of a home.”

Regulus felt a little odd about that. He’d built up a resentment he tried to ignore for his own brother, who had done something similar. Sure, Sirius had left to save himself. Regulus knew their household was one that was constantly suffocating his brother. But he hadn’t talked to Regulus about it. One minute he was there, and the next minute he was gone. He’d left Regulus without so much as a goodbye. It hardly felt right...but the way Evan talked about it, Regulus felt a twinge of logic crack his resentment. Sirius definitely couldn’t have lasted forever, trying to shield Regulus from his mother’s abuse. Perhaps, he’d just done what he could...to survive.

“I’d like to meet them some time,” Regulus said, fidgeting with his hands a little. It was odd that he hadn’t even known his best friend had siblings.

“Regulus, you want to learn magic with me. You like to mess around with me and flirt with me. You like to smoke Beard with me, which is 90% of what I do. You say now you want to meet my family, and we keep having these moments where I swear you want to kiss me,” Evan took a few steps forward as he said all this, until he’s standing in front of Regulus. They’re looking very intensely into each other’s eyes, and it feels as though both are holding their breaths. “You love me as a friend, but I know you like me in a different way, too. And I like you too.”

“What’s the question?”

“I’m not sure I have the heart to say it,” Evan said. He was searching Regulus’s eyes, looking for answers of some sort in his gaze. Regulus wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He wasn’t sure if there was anything to find, but being so close and looking into his eyes was making his heart race. For a second, Regulus thought Evan could hear it because he suddenly looked very sure as he wrapped an arm around Regulus’s neck and pulled his mouth up to the blond boy’s. 

“Oi, Rosier, you in there?” it sounded like Barty Crouch Jr. The knob moved. Regulus’s heart nearly stopped. But the door was locked, and Barty Crouch Jr. just grumbled something about Rosier hogging all the weed. “Come back to the basement when you’re done jerking off.”

“Alright,” Rosier said, his voice shaky as he glanced back at Regulus. The moment was ruined though. It had already been too fragile and raw and new, that Evan hadn’t even been sure it was real, but now it was gone. Regulus’s face went blank as his walls went up and with it his mask. Evan was sure that there would be no getting this opportunity to get this back, especially as Regulus mumbled an excuse and apparated before he could convince him to stay. He cursed, kicking the dresser and watching as the vase toppled, the flowers spilling out of them. The vase was unharmed but the flowers were instantly damaged. It didn’t feel good knowing Evan may have ruined two fragile things in one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I have a tendency to re-write chapters until I feel like I got the voices correct and/or the drama doesn’t feel too forced so let me know what you think in the comments. I’d greatly appreciate it.


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